Any Man of Mine (Holmes Crossing Book 5)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  "I usually don't," I said. I held his gaze, sensing the questions in the depths of his eyes. I thought of the kisses we had shared, the moments of closeness. I knew I was connected to him and I hoped he to me. "But sometimes I like to watch my boyfriend competing."

  His eyebrow shot to the brim of his hat at that. "Really? Boyfriend?" His teasing tone didn't help my confidence level any.

  So I lifted my chin, didn't look away. "Yeah. Boyfriend."

  His smile drifted away, and he straightened. And before I could realize what he was doing or even think to stop him, he slipped his arm around me, pulled his hat off, and shielded our faces with it as he bent over to kiss me. I met him halfway and as our lips met, I felt the usual thrill that I always did being this close to him. His mouth lingered on mine one long moment and then he reluctantly pulled away.

  People all around us started cheering, and I thought another competitor had finished a ride, until I noticed that everyone was looking at us.

  "Looks like we've got an audience," James said with a grin.

  "We do have an audience," I said nudging him with my elbow.

  "Let's get out of here," James said reaching for my hand. "We need to talk. Somewhere a little more private."

  I took his hand, hoping and praying that he wasn't bringing me back to the chutes to talk. There was only so much I could handle right now. But as the crowd cheered for us, and people called out encouragement, he just waved his hat and led me down the stairs.

  He ducked into an opening that led to the training rooms. I could see a few other cowboys in the rooms, either getting ready or recuperating from what they had just done. But James didn't stop there. Still holding my hand, he led me down that hallway, out the door and then outside.

  "We're going the wrong direction." I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be competing soon?"

  James still said nothing as we walked across the grass to the gazebo set in the middle of the park adjoining the arena. He stopped at a bench, sat down and pulled me beside him.

  "I can't believe you came," he said as he pulled off his glove.

  "I felt like I needed to." I folded my hands on my lap even though all I wanted to do was touch him. Make sure he was really here. Still here, I guess. "Part of my healing process."

  "Is that all?" Was that hurt in his voice?

  "No. Not all by any stretch." I gave him a careful smile. "I wanted to be here to support you."

  "Me? Support me?"

  I nodded.

  "Your boyfriend?"

  I blushed at but nodded. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

  James pulled his other glove off then ran one rough finger down the side of my face stroking my cheek. "When Chip told me you had come here, I knew I had to see for myself." He cupped my chin and looked deep into my eyes. "I understand how difficult this must be for you. And I'm sorry I never realized it sooner. I had my own goals and my own needs and my own drive. My own reasons for doing the things I was doing. I spent so much time focusing on this, I forgot about other people, including Robin."

  I listened to him, my heart sore for him and his own loss.

  "I understand why you want to finish what your father started," I said, glancing nervously behind him. "And you should probably get going."

  "You sound uptight."

  "I know you need to get ready. You need to be in the right head space--"

  He touched his finger to my lips and smiled down at me. "I'm in exactly the right space right now. I'm exactly where I need to be."

  His words took a moment to settle. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm not going back in there. I'm not competing."

  "But you'll forfeit your spot. You won't be able to compete the rest of the weekend."

  "Exactly. I'm not competing this weekend at all. Or any other weekend for that matter."

  "I don't understand?"

  "I'm saying I quit. I'm not riding anymore."

  "At all?" I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

  He nodded. "At all. I'm done."

  "But your father's legacy-"

  "Is my father's. Not mine. I need to find my own way. I found myself thinking about the things I told you and I realized I could have been preaching at myself. I needed to find what I wanted to do, not what I thought I should do. I like horse training and I like working with owners and I guess I like my health." He gave me a crooked smile and cupped my chin in his hand. "Like I told you, I've been hurt enough doing this and I don't think I want to risk it anymore. I know what you went through to come and sit in the stands and when Chip came and told me you were here, I realized what you had done. I knew the sacrifice you had made. No one's ever done that for me. Ever. And then I thought why not do the same? I wondered what I would gain by riding and what I could potentially lose. I decided I didn't want to lose you."

  At that moment words were too small and feeble. I grabbed him by the shoulders pulled him closer and pressed my lips to his. His arms came around me and he pulled me full against him his mouth warm, his lips soft.

  When he finally pulled away, he was smiling at me. He fingered a strand of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. Just like he had on our "first date."

  "What are you smiling about?" He asked me.

  “I'm thinking about the time we went out to that movie."

  "Not my best moment," he said, his voice tight. "I should've punched Steve Stinson right then and there. I was so annoyed when he came up to you making those threats. But I had to be all sensitive and Schubert-loving, like your brothers told me to be, when I wanted so badly to haul back and plow him. But Carter said you'd be upset if I got too macho so I had to just stand there and watch him be a jerk."

  In spite of the emotions that had swirled around us still, I laughed. "That's not very Christian of you, James."

  "I know. That's why I only tripped him the other day." His smile faded away and his eyes held mine, serious now. "I was afraid for you. I'm glad I was around."

  I thought of Les, standing behind me, probably being all sensitive and Schubert-loving and I knew, right then and there, which man I preferred more. "I'm glad you were, too." I reached up and touched the scar above his eyebrow. "You make me feel safe even though I still think, sometimes, you're a bit dangerous."

  "Not to you."

  I shook my head. "Only where my heart is concerned."

  "Your heart?" he asked, his voice growing soft and teasing. "How?"

  I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him, then pulled back. "Like that." I smiled at him, letting my feelings for him flower, grow, come to fruition. Whatever deep feelings do when they're acknowledged.

  James gave me another kiss.

  His lips felt warm against my cold skin, then he pulled away. "This might be sudden, but I don't believe in wasting time. I love you, Danielle Hemstead. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out."

  His words sang through me like, well, like a Schubert composition. What had James said? Long melodies, both brusque and leisurely. Come to think of it, that described James to a T.

  "I love you, too Jigs." I said, surprise and relieved. "More than I thought I could ever love anyone." I pulled his head down and gave him a long, warm kiss.

  I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and looked over my shoulder. Lightning flickered in the clouds, and I knew we should get inside soon.

  "I think it will rain."

  "Sounds like it."

  "I sure hope you got your leaky roof fixed before you moved back," I said to him.

  He frowned his puzzlement. "What you mean leaky roof?"

  "The leaky roof on the house you're living in now. That's why you moved into the house on our farm. Because your roof was leaking."

  "About that..."

  "You sound evasive," I said to him. "I recognize that tone. "You must have gotten it fixed otherwise you wouldn't have moved Sherry and Robin in there." I narrowed my eyes at his puzzled expression and things became clear. "Don't tell me. The
roof doesn't leak."

  "Actually," he admitted in a sheepish voice, "it doesn't."

  "Don't tell me that was another one of my brothers stupid schemes to get us together."

  "No it wasn't. This one was all mine. After that first date, I wanted to see you again and when you came to the riding arena you were so ticked off, I knew the only way I would be able to see you again would be if I moved closer. So I exaggerated the leaking roof story. It leaks all right. Just not that much."

  "And there was no bet." I don't know why I brought that up, but I felt like we needed to start things on the same page.

  He brushed another kiss over my lips. "There was no bet. That's the truth. Meeting you in the restaurant happened exactly like I told you. Me moving to your old house...well, that was my idea. And you have to admit, it was a good one."

  I held up my hand. "Please, please don't tell me that Robin and Sherry were part of this, as well."

  "No. No, and definitely no." He sighed and shook his head. "That was completely unrehearsed, unplanned and unwelcome."

  "I don't know. I kind of liked taking care of Sherry," I said.

  "Well, if Robin sticks around, you might be able to take care of Sherry more than you want. I'm still working on the whole responsibility thing."

  I smiled up at him, gave his arm a squeeze. "You're a wonderful brother. My own could take a few lessons from you."

  "Your brothers have their own strengths. They just need a little guidance."

  "Just like Robin."

  James pulled me into his arms again. I was liking this whole getting to know each other thing. "So we can help each other, then."

  "Yeah. We can."

  The thunder behind us rumbled even harder, and I felt a few spitters of rain on my head.

  "We better go inside," I told him. "Besides, we need to see how the competition is doing."

  "Not my competition anymore," James said. "You need to know that. It's over for me."

  "You don't need to do this for me," I said to him.

  "Yes I do," he said. "And I need to do it for myself too. Like I said, I need to make decisions for myself."

  I gave him a smile of thankfulness and together we walked into the arena.

  Me, with James who was gentle yet firm. Safe yet with a hint of danger.

  A man in the best sense of the word.

  My man.

  Afterword

  I hope you enjoyed reading about Danielle and James A.K.A. Jigs. I hope you could appreciate Danielle’s journey as she struggled to move on from the pain of the past to hope for the future. I think many of us deal with sorrow that can hold us back from embracing today. I hope, if that’s the case with you, that you received some encouragement from Danielle’s story.

  Reviews are often how I choose my next book so I’m hoping you can help some future reader choose this one. Therefore I would be truly appreciative if you could leave a review for this book here:

  Any Man of Mine - Review

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  If you haven’t read the other Holmes Crossing books you can find out more about them here or you can keep reading the excerpts following.

  THE ONLY BEST PLACE

  ALL IN ONE PLACE

  A SILENCE IN THE HEART

  THIS PLACE

  Coming Soon!

  I have a new series coming out in the fall.

  If you’ve read Homecoming then you’ve already been introduced to Sweet Creek and some of the people there.

  If not you’ll get to read about Mark and Sheryl and the rest of the Sweet Creek community when the book comes out in October along with a Heart’s Promise - the second book in the series.

  To find out more about Sweet Creek books - click here:

  http://www.caarsen.com/SweetCreek

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  Read a sample of The Only Best Place

  Smile. Think happy thoughts. Take a deep breath and…

  “Hello. I’m Leslie VandeKeere, and I’m a farmer's wife."

  No. No. All wrong. That sounds like I'm addressing a self-help group for stressed-out urban dwellers.

  I angled the rearview mirror of my car to do a sincerity check on my expression and pulled a face at my reflection. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Both the polar opposite of the VandeKeere signature blonde hair and blue eyes repeated throughout the Dutch-based community of Holmes Crossing.

  During the past hour of the long drive from Vancouver to here, I'd been practicing my introduction to varied and sundry members of the vast community of which I knew about four and a half people. I'd been trying out various intros. That last one was a bust. I'd never been a farmer's wife. Would never be a farmer's wife. I’m a nurse, even though my focus the next year was supposed to be on our marriage. Not my career.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. "Our year here will be interesting."

  Worse yet. Most women could break that code faster than you could say "fifteen percent off." Interesting was a twilight word that either veered toward the good or the dark side.

  Right now my delivery was a quiet and subdued Darth Vader.

  I had to keep my voice down so I wouldn't wake my two kids. After four Veggie Tales and a couple of off-key renditions of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," they had finally drifted off to sleep, and I didn't want to risk waking them. The eighteen hour trip had been hard on us. They needed the rest. I needed the rest, but I had to drive.

  I stretched out hands stiff from clutching the steering wheel of my trusty, rusty Honda, the caboose in our little convoy. My husband, Dan, headed the procession, pulling the stock trailer holding stage one of our earthly goods. Next came his brother-in-law Gerrit, pulling his own stock trailer loaded with our earthly goods stage two.

  I had each bar, each bolt, each spot of rust on Gerrit's trailer indelibly imprinted on my brain. Counting the bolt heads distracted me from the dread that clawed at me whenever I saw the empty road stretching endlessly ahead of me.

  A road that wound crazily through pine-covered mountains, then wide open, almost barren, plains. Now, on the last leg of our journey, we were driving through ploughed and open fields broken only by arrow-straight fence lines and meandering cottonwoods. Tender green leaves misted the bare branches of the poplars edging the road, creating a promise of spring that I hadn't counted on spending here.

  I hadn't gone silently down this road. I had balked, kicked, and pleaded. I had even dared to pray that a God I didn't talk to often would intervene.

  Of course I was bucking some pretty powerful intercessors. I'm sure the entire VandeKeere family was united in their prayers for their beloved brother, son, cousin, nephew, and grandchild to be enfolded once again in the bosom of the family and the farm where they thought he belonged. So it was a safe bet my flimsy request lay buried in the avalanche of petitions flowing from Holmes Crossing.

  The one person I had on my side was my sister, Terra. But she only talked to God when she'd had too much to drink. Of course, in that state, she chatted up anyone
who would listen.

  The friends I left behind in Vancouver were sympathetic, but they all thought this trip would be an adventure. Interesting adventure, my friend Josie had said when I told her.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror at my sleeping children. Nicholas shifted in his car seat, his sticky hands clutching a soggy Popsicle stick. The Popsicle had been a blatant bribe, and the oblong purple stain running over his coat from chin to belly would probably not wash out. A constant reminder of my giving in.

  Since Edmonton, I'd been tweaking my introduction, and now that we had turned off the highway, time and miles ate up what time I had left. I had only ten minutes to convince myself that I'd sooner be heading toward the intersection of "no" and "where," otherwise known as Holmes Crossing, Alberta, than back to Vancouver.

  We would still be there if it weren't for Lonnie Dansworth--snake, scumbag, and crooked building contractor. The $90,000’s worth of unpaid bills he left in the "VandeKeere Motors" inbox tipped Dan's fledgling mechanic business from barely getting by to going under. The Dansworth Debacle, in turn, wiped out the finely drawn pictures I'd created in my head of the dream life and home Dan and I had been saving for. The home that represented stability for a marriage that had wobbled on shaky ground the past year.

  The second push to Holmes Crossing came when Dan's stepfather, Keith Cook, booked a midlife crisis that resulted in him doing a boot-scootin' boogie out of hearth, home, Holmes Crossing, and the family farm, leaving a vacuum in the VandeKeere family's life that Dan decided we would temporarily fill.

  Temporary had been a recurring refrain in our life so far. The first two years of our marriage, Dan had worked for a small garage in Markham while I worked in the ER at the Scarborough Hospital. When an oil company needed a maintenance mechanic, we moved to Fort McMurray, and I got a job as a camp nurse. Two years later, an opportunity to be his own boss came up in Vancouver. When we packed up and moved, Dan promised me this was our final destination. Until now.